


a part of the family

by inkwellhell (georgewashingmachine)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Gen, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Tattoos, Teen Angst, The Prime 8's, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, fear of needles, mix of comic & tv canon, teenage vanya & diego!, tfw u traumatize yr children by giving them tattoos at the age of 13, vanya centric, vanya just wants to belong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 19:12:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgewashingmachine/pseuds/inkwellhell
Summary: Vanya reflects. On Diego, on tattoos, on teenage rebellion.But most of all, on belonging.





	a part of the family

**Author's Note:**

> hey i really love the umbrella academy and i just HAD to write something after seeing the show
> 
> big thanks to @diegohargreeves and @raylan-c on tumblr for giving me ideas. and also making me use the word dichotomy.
> 
> if you wanna talk umbrella academy, hit me up on tumblr! i'm vanyahargreevesprotectionsquad.

Vanya had always longed for inclusion.

For as long as she could remember, she’d been separated from her siblings. Always an outsider. Observing. Recording. Watching.

She was left out of everything (even out of ~~Dad’s~~  the Monocle’s own mouth—Vanya had learned that he frequently said he only adopted six children instead of seven). She hardly felt like she was a part of this family.

So, she isolated herself, and tended to what seemed to be her only talent (besides getting in everyone’s way): the violin.

And yet, even _that_ didn’t seem to be good enough.

But her talents weren’t the point. The point is that she wanted to belong, and so when all of her siblings got tattoos and she didn’t, she felt excluded.

The feeling was nothing new.

  

* * *

  

**THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY. THIRTEEN YEARS AGO.**

 

“You still have that tattoo?”

“It’s a tattoo, Vanya. It’s permanent.” Diego looks down at his arm, the umbrella forever etched into his skin staring back up at him. It’s obvious he doesn’t like talking about it. “Feels more like a fucking _brand_ , to be honest.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. For bringing it up.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Diego finishes lacing up his boots, and turns to grab his shirt. Vanya is sitting on his bed, smoking a cigarette. They’re both seventeen and in a punk rock band called the Prime 8’s. Their drummer is a sentient chimpanzee named Body. The two had just been indefinitely grounded by the Monocle after one of their gigs went sour and doctors had to wire the jaw of some CEO’s son. The Monocle wants to send Vanya off to some private music institution to study classical music instead of the “trash racket” she was currently making with Diego.

And now you’re caught up.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you at Christmas.”

Diego scoffs. “Screw that.”

Vanya appreciates her brother’s willingness to rebel, even if they had just gotten punished. “You heard the old man…he wants me out of here. I’m surprised it took him this long.”

“Then I’m leaving with you.”

The words surprise Vanya so much that she stands up to look Diego in the eye, trying to tell if he’s serious or not.

He’s serious.

“What?”

“Like you said, we have a gig tonight. You don’t belong here, Vanya. But neither do I. I’m not cut out for this hero business. And saving the world isn’t _my_ dream.” He stops to pull his shirt over his head, but even with the action being unchoreographed, it makes for one hell of a dramatic pause.  “It’s _his_.”

Vanya couldn’t argue with that. He had a point.

“ _This_ is where you belong. _This_ is what you’re meant to do. Playing gigs, raising hell, hitting cities like a sledgehammer all over the world.” Diego picks up a copy of their record from his dresser, handing it to his sister. “I’ll ditch out on patrol and meet you at the club. We do the show, grab the cash, pack the gear in Body’s van, hit the gas—and _never_ come home.”

Vanya looks down at the recording in her hand. It’s called _I don’t wanna kill the president_ , a name Hargreeves was confused by. Vanya insisted it was a political statement. The bastard insisted she was “far too young and stupid to make one, Number Seven.” 

“You with me?” 

Vanya looks up. It’s a bad idea, really. But they’re young and stupid and in a punk rock band and they hate their dad and her seventeen year old self cares more about teenage rebellion than making good decisions.

She smiles, and slams her fist down on top of Diego’s.

“You got yourself an axelady, hot-head.”

  

* * *

 

 

**THAT NIGHT. DOWNTOWN.**

****

Diego never showed up. She found out through a news report. It’s fitting, really: it’s how she would learn about her dad’s death in thirteen years, and it’s how she learned about the death of the Prime 8’s. 

“ _The Umbrella Academy crashed the gang’s hideout, but the kidnappers gained the upper hand, subduing the Rumor and Spaceboy, and injuring the Horror and the Séance. Just as the situation seemed hopeless, the Kraken appeared, knocking out the ringleader and turning the tide…_ ”

“This is where you belong.” She’s alone, and she doesn’t bother to hide the venom in her voice.

The news report drones on in the background as Vanya walks away from the window. “ _The Umbrella Academy were unavailable for comment. Sir Reginald Hargreeves is minutes away from delivering a press conference…_ ”

“This is what you’re meant to do.”

She hails a taxi, asks to go to airport, and tells the driver there’s forty bucks in it for him if he steps on it.

“Going somewhere important?”

Vanya looks down at her tattoo. It’s not a real tattoo, not like the rest of the Academy had. God, how long had it been since then? Four years?

She had been drawing the same stupid design on her wrist since 2002. 

1,460 days, give or take a couple months. 

Guess she never bothered to stop. Old habits die hard, as they say. 

1,460 days, all to just feel like a part of the family.

The dichotomy between her and her siblings that day was almost laughable. The others had been terrified (It was then that Diego had developed his fear of needles. He passed out. Hargreeves had been pissed. Luther had gotten mad at him, too, the hypocrite. Vanya would write about Diego’s fear in her book, years later. That and his stutter. It was a dick move, really, and she figured she deserved Diego’s future hate for writing all that about her family. At least he had read it.), but to Vanya? The tattoo took on a different meaning for her. She was so lonely and isolated and desperate for belonging, so she made herself belong.

For 1,460 days, she had made herself belong in that fucked up family.

And today would be the last. 

“Yeah…” Vanya tells the taxi driver matter-of-factly, pulling her sleeve down. “Anywhere but here.”


End file.
